A Chance Encounter
by SushiBar
Summary: Sasha walks into the girls' lockerroom expecting it to be empty. Instead he sees Payson naked. He cannot get her out of his mind afterwards and goes slightly insane. Payson is oblivious to poor Sasha's predicament. Sasha/Payson.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Make it or Break it.  
Pairing: Sasha/Payson  
Rating: M for language and suggestion of sexual thoughts.  
A/N: It's been a long time since I wrote any fanfiction and this is my first in the MioBi universe. Please let me know what you think.

Sasha whistles under his breath as he makes his way through the gym, sixpack tucked under his arm. With Ellen Beals breathing down his neck and the awkward conversations he's had with both Payson and Summer, he has been looking forward to an evening of Guitar Hero and beer all day. He pauses in front of the girls' lockerroom, noticing one of them has left the lights on, yet again. Setting down his sixpack with a sigh, he opens the door.

_Fuck._

'Should have knocked first,' he thinks vaguely as he takes in the sight before him. Payson Keeler, dripping wet, is rummaging through her gymbag, towel wrapped around her hair when it really, _really _should have been wrapped around her body. His eyes travel to her chest and he notes her breasts are really as big as they look in a leo. Bigger than most gymnasts', due to her sudden start of puberty after her fall at Nationals. They sway along with her movements as she continues to search her bag, cursing softly. He feels his eyes move lower and before he's had more than just a glimpse of her well-defined bum, he closes the door, feeling incredibly dirty.

_And horny._

He quickly picks up the sixpack and sprints towards his office, hoping the game will take his mind off Payson's surprisingly voluptuous body. 'Not so surprising,' his brain supplies. 'You see her in a tight leotard every day.' He closes his eyes, hoping it will help stop the influx of images. Of course, these images are in his mind so it doesn't exactly work. He sits down on the couch and opens a beer, gulping down nearly all of it with his eyes still closed.

"God, you must be thirsty," a voice breaks through his steady mantra of _'Don't think about it, don't think about it._' He opens his eyes and there Payson is, fortunately dressed quite modestly now. Her conservative sweaterdress makes him feel even worse about the inappropriate swelling he still feels in his crotch.

He attempts a smile, saying;" Yeah, well I needed that after today. Beals would not stop calling and Summer-" he stops himself there. What he was about to divulge is really not something one of his gymnasts should hear. Especially this one.

Payson plops down on the couch beside him and smiles encouragingly at him. "Go on, it's not like I'll tell anyone." He studies her for a bit, her earnest expression and wet hair tied in a messy bun on top of her head.  
He sighes deeply and takes another sip. " She, uh, implied that I might have sent you the wrong signals, causing you to kiss me." He says it quickly, like ripping off a bandaid.

"What? That's…that's about the stupidest thing I've ever heard her say, and she's said plenty of stupid things." Payson bursts out. An involuntary laugh escapes his mouth before he can quell it. He's always known that Payson isn't exactly fond of the bubbly blonde, but he suspects this has given her an outlet for those feelings.

"She's just always butting into things that are none of her business, that she couldn't _possibly _understand!" Payson continues, obviously encouraged by his laughter. "What the hell does she know about our relationship as coach and gymnast? She's a secretary!"

"Co gym-manager," Sasha corrects, not quite managing to make his tone scolding. Payson scoffs and grabs the guitar leaning against the couch, switching the game back on. As she starts playing, Sasha admires her. Payson shows passion and fire in every single thing she does, even if it is a silly game. It frightens him slightly as well, knowing that if she ever turned that passion on him (again) he'd surely cave in as soon as she did.

The next few days are torture for him. He's been helping her on vault for her Yurchenko double twist, albeit reluctantly. After an hour long discussion, he had conceded to letting her practice it in the pit. Every time his hand touches the small of her back to help her over, or when he pulls her out of the foam cushions, he flashes back to the girls' lockerroom.  
Even though he had noticed before that moment that her body has changed (in fact, he was the one to point it out to her), he can't help watching her curves, painfully obvious in the tight leo's she's wearing. He's glad Payson is oblivious to attention from the opposite sex, as anyone else would have noticed his stares by now.  
And he stares a lot. He stares as she takes off her yoga pants before practice, or when she fixes her bun, causing her breasts to become more pronounced despite the fact that she's wearing a sports bra (a fact he relishes as it minimizes her curves in that area) or when she punches the mat in frustration when her beam dismount lands her on her ass.  
It's so very, very wrong, but Sasha simply cannot take his eyes off of her.

He knows it's only a matter of time before someone notices, and he supposes he's kind of happy it's Summer. She thinks too much of him to ever guess at the nature of his looks.

"Sasha, can I talk to you about something?" Summer asks, a bright smile on her face. He recognises this smile. It's the one she wears when she wants him to do something he really won't like. He checks his wince in time and follows her up to the office. He leans against the desk as she starts speaking," Sasha, I've noticed that you've been paying a lot of attention to Payson. Do you think that's wise? I mean- with what happened…" She trails off, not willing to say it.

He's more than willing to say it (and repeat it) however:" You're referring to Payson kissing me?" He admits to himself that he feels an inappropriate level of glee at her obvious discomfort.  
She sighes heavily and cocks her head. " Yes. I don't think that you're giving her the right message. As long as she thinks you share her feelings, she won't be able to let go of her crush." She preaches earnestly.

"I know teenage girls, Sasha, I used to be one. I know how nice it feels to have the attention of someone you find attractive. Everyone wants to be appreciated. But I don't think this crush is good for Payson, or her career. Or yours, for that matter, if this were ever to go public."  
Summer seems sincere in her concerns, but her presumptuousness has been grating on his nerves for a while now, and he snaps.

"Oh come off it, Summer. The only one who thinks this crush is inappropriate is you. A relationship between coach and gymnast is complex and you will never understand that because you are neither a coach nor a gymnast. You're a manager. And you're good at it, I know that, but you cannot possibly understand my relationship with Payson, or the complexity of her feelings towards me." He breathes heavy as he finishes his little rant and he realises he feels protective of Payson. In particular, of her feelings towards him. He hopes- a small, persistent and ugly part of him at least- that this is more than just a crush.

Summer looks hurt and she starts arranging her pens according to colour, something she does when she is stressed.

"Summer, I'm sorry," he murmurs," but I really don't think you're seeing this for what it is."

"No, Sasha, I don't think _you _do," Summer retorts. She stands up for behind her desk, grabbing her purse. "And frankly, it worries me."

He knows Summer was partly right about the situation. He probably is giving Payson the wrong signals. But so long as she doesn't pick up on them, he can't find it in himself to care.

It's a miracle he has survived this long, but as he sees Payson enter the gym wearing short shorts and a tank top, slightly sticky with sweat, he nearly loses control. As he steps closer to her, he sees she's not wearing a bra. He looks her over again and barks out;"What do you think you're doing here?"  
She jumps at his sudden shout and drops her gymbag in her surprise. "What do you mean, what am I doing here?" she tries innocently. It comes out as weak instead.

"You're obviously sick, Payson." He admonishes, pressing his hand against her damp forehead.  
"No, I'm not. I just came from a run."  
"You went running without wearing a sports bra?" it's meant to be sarcastic, but he can't believe he's just said that. He might as well have said he can see her nipples, taut from the cold space of the gym, through her shirt. (which he can, oh yes.)

She blinks at him and quickly covers her chest with her arms(damnit), fixing him with an angry look a second later as what he said dawns on her.  
"You were _looking?!_" she says incredulously.  
"I-no. Payson, I'm your coach and I am supposed to notice everything about you. And yes, it might be awkward, but I know very well that running without a sports bra has to be painful or at least uncomfortable with your cupsize. So stop lying. You are sick and you are going to go home and sleep it off. Okay?" he manages to say, sounding relatively steady even though he can feel himself blushing as he thinks about how she would have looked running in just her tank top, her breasts bouncing- he stops himself, not quite in time. He realises Payson is looking at him oddly. "Well, go on!" he says, as if he has heard what she was saying in protest.

Having Payson gone from the gym allows him to relax a little. So when she comes back two days later, looking markedly healthier, he's unprepared. To make matters worse, she stays late to make up for lost training time, leaving the two of them all alone in the gym. They're currently working on a triple twist for her floor routine. Sasha is almost afraid to touch her, fearing it will only feed the ever-growing pile of inappropriate thoughts.  
"Yes!" she yells as she sticks it for the third time in a row, successfully pulling him out of his reverie. "I want to go again." He stops her before she can run back to the other side of the floor.  
"Hold on, Payson. I think that enough for one day. I don't want you to strain something."  
"Fine," she grumbles, stomping off towards the lockerrooms.  
"Wait!" he calls after her. "I, err, I need to talk to you. About that kiss. I need to know if I did anything to make it seem like…"  
Payson is staring at him, looking confused. "Of course you didn't. You were doing your job and I read too much into your actions. It's not your fault I developed feelings for you, Sasha." She stresses as he opens his mouth to protest, "You helped me through such a difficult time in my life and you would have done it for anyone, that's just-" He holds up his hand to stop her.

"No, I don't think I would have, Payson. You…You are special. I've known that since I stepped foot in this gym. I don't think any of the other girls could have recovered from your injury in the way that you did. That was all you. Not me." He says, looking deeply into her eyes, not even noticing his hands resting on her shoulders, his thumbs circling her throat. She flushes and looks away from him.  
"Sasha. " she mumbles. "Please, I…this is hard for me. " She gestures to his hands. He keeps them there anyway, deciding that, fuck it, he wants this and he wants her. He's so damn tired of trying to ignore his attraction- his growing feelings for this amazing girl.

He kisses her.

And it's fantastic, her lips as soft as he remembers them from that first kiss, but this one is so much better now that he can participate. He moves his hands from her shoulders to her waist and pulls her closer instead of away. She fits right against his body, her soft curves pressing into his chest.

He can't believe he waited so long to do this.

The End. Maybe.


	2. Chapter 2

Payson smiles as she sees the light in Sasha's office is on. Assuming he's playing Guitar Hero and wanting to join in, she climbs the steps to the office. Sasha is sitting on the couch, eyes closed, chugging his beer like he hasn't had anything to drink for days.

"God, you must be thirsty," she says and his eyes snap open.  
He scrutinizes her for a moment, then smiles (more of a grimace, really) ;" Yeah, well I needed that after today. Beals would not stop calling and Summer-"  
he stops abruptly.  
He probably doesn't want to tell her about his love-troubles with Summer( or Bible-beating-hoochie-mama, Lauren's nickname for her when she didn't like the woman yet. Payson still doesn't like her, however, and always calls her that in her mind)  
She plops down on the couch besides Sasha and tries to encourage him. "Go on, it's not like I'll tell anyone."  
And she won't. She likes these kind of conversations that only she can have with her coach. It makes her feel special, and not as much of a weirdo for kissing him.  
Sasha stalls for a moment, sighing heavily and chugging back some more beer.  
" She, uh, implied that I might have sent you the wrong signals, causing you to kiss me."  
The words register vaguely in her mind and she feels an uncontrollable anger bubbling up inside of her.

_That bitch!_

"What?" she bursts out, unable to contain her words. "That's…that's about the stupidest thing I've ever heard her say, and she's said plenty of stupid things."  
It's true, Summer is always preaching to them about religion and (shudder) abstinence. She's a gymnast, probably one of the most controlled types of people there are. Besides, Lauren had told her all about Summer's own rather giving nature when she was in high school.

_That hypocritical bitch!_

Sasha laughs and she's glad she's at least succeeding slightly in cheering him up, so she continues her little rant. It's one long overdue, anyway.  
"She's just always butting into things that are none of her business, that she couldn't _possibly _understand! What the hell does she know about our relationship as coach and gymnast? She's a secretary!"  
"Co-gym manager," Sasha corrects her.  
Scoffing, Payson grabs the guitar leaning against the couch and stands up to play. She plans to enjoy this night before Sasha realises they're alone and starts acting all weird again.

Sasha has been staring at her lately. At first, she had excused herself to the ladies' room, thinking there might be something on her face or, God forbid, her leo was showing stuff it had no business showing. That made her feel more than slightly stupid, however, and she instead tries to figure out exactly what he was staring at.  
No matter how hard she tries, though, she can't figure out his focus. It seems he stares at _all _of her.

It makes her feel nervous and she's failing to land her beam dismount nearly every time. She's used to being watched for imperfections, but the way Sasha is looking at her doesn't have even a tiny bit of criticism in it. It is almost like (she barely even dares to think it) he is admiring her.

Payson wakes up with a gasp, her body wet with sweat. She lifts her hand to her forehead and feels herself burning up. She hasn't landed her beam dismount in forever, though, and she has to get it soon.  
So, despite the banging inside her head, she forces herself out of bed and goes to the bathroom to splash some cold water on her face. It makes her feel better, if only temporarily.  
She feels a bit hazy as she puts on some shorts and a tanktop, not noticing that she forgets to put on her bra. A quick look at the time tells her she woke up a lot later than usual and she hastily makes her way downstairs, grabbing an apple to eat in the car instead of a proper breakfast.

Sasha is the only one present this early at the gym( because Payson getting up late is still earlier than anyone else) and he stalks over as soon as he spots her. He looks her over and his eyes pause on her chest a second longer before he barks out: ;"What do you think you're doing here?"  
She jumps at his harsh voice and drops her gymbag on the floor. (it was getting heavy, anyway)  
"What do you mean, what am I doing here?" she says, looking at Sasha with big eyes. She knows it probably won't work, but it's worth a shot.

"You're obviously sick, Payson," Sasha says gently as he presses a hand to her forehead. She can't afford missing a day of training, especially when she has two dismounts that won't stick.  
"No, I'm not. I just came from a run."  
Sasha looks at her again, and she sees his sardonic glare even before he says:"You went running without wearing a sports bra?"  
Payson is confused. Of course she's wearing a – she feels the gym's air-condition harden her nipples against her tanktop. She quickly crosses her arms in front of her breasts and wills herself to be angry.  
"You were _looking?!_"  
Sasha blushes fiercely and begins to stammer out an excuse, which gets funnier and funnier the more he talks.  
"I-no. Payson, I'm your coach" (of course he's throwing that one at her) " And I am supposed to notice everything about you. And yes, it might be awkward, but I know very well that running without a sports bra has to be painful or at least uncomfortable with your cupsize."  
('How do you know, Sasha? You don't have boobs' her brain helpfully supplies)  
" So stop lying. You are sick and you are going to go home and sleep it off. Okay?" At last, he manages to employ his Coach –voice and she feels the need to obey immediately.  
She resists that urge, though. "Come on, Sasha! I have to train- my dismounts aren't sticking and if I don't have them ready in time then I won't be able to petition on for the National- Sasha? Are you listening to me?"  
Sasha is looking at her crossed arms with a faraway expression on his face. She stares at him in wonder until he suddenly snaps out of his reverie and starts shoo-ing her out the door, not acknowledging her protests at all.  
"Well, go on!" Reluctantly, she picks up her gym bag and leaves the Rock.

After two whole days in bed, trying to get rid of her fever, Payson is itching to get back to training. Even though her feet ache and she's pretty sure she'll have to lay in an ice bath when she gets home, the exercise feels good and she's nailing her triple twist for her floor routine, without Sasha helping much. He barely touches her, whereas normally he'd make her hold her positions so he can correct her extensions.  
When she lands her routine for the third time without falling on her ass she loudly yells;" Yes! I want to go again."  
Sasha's eyes flash over to her and he grabs her arm to stop her from moving back to the other side of the floor. (well, at least he's touching her now)  
"Hold on, Payson. I think that enough for one day. I don't want you to strain something," he says, being unnecessarily coach-y for someone who was paying his gymnast very little attention just moments before.  
No longer willing to put up with his shit, she grumbles out a "Fine" and starts walking towards the locker room.  
"Wait! I, err, I need to talk to you. About that kiss." She slowly turns around, not believing her ears.  
"I need to know if I did anything to make it seem like… " Is he seriously asking her this? Jeez, that man needs to work on his self-esteem.  
"Of course you didn't," she reassures him. "You were doing your job and I read too much into your actions. It's not your fault I developed feelings for you, Sasha."  
He opens his mouth( probably to say she's wrong) so she quickly continues:" You helped me through such a difficult time in my life and you would have done it for anyone, that's just" he holds up his hand, and she stops. (that's just who you are, you wonderful, idiotic man)

"No, I don't think I would have, Payson," he says, sounding a little out of breath. "You…You are special. I've known that since I stepped foot in this gym. I don't think any of the other girls could have recovered from your injury in the way that you did. That was all you. Not me." His hands are on her shoulders (where they usually are when they talk) and his thumbs are rubbing circles on her throat.  
It makes her feel the exact things she _should not _be feeling and she tries to get him to stop.  
"Sasha. " she mumbles. "Please, I…this is hard for me. " She gestures desperately at his hands, hoping he'll take them away- or leave them there, as long as he just does _something _other than stare at her like- He kisses her.

It's so much better than that first kiss (it doesn't even count) and she feels absolutely devoured as he hungrily presses her closer to him. His tongue sweeps into her mouth and she struggles to reciprocate when she thinks any moment now her knees might give out.  
Sasha moves his kisses towards her cheeks, her throat and her collarbone and she's pretty sure she's going to faint soon because she's feeling very hot right now and a person can't possibly stand this much joy and pleasure without passing out.  
He moves back to her mouth again, his fingers freeing her hair from the messy bun on top of her head.  
A tiny whimper escapes her mouth and Sasha freezes against her. She can feel him pushing her away (not again) and she protests.  
"Am I hurting you?" he mutters against her lips and even though his ever-present concern for her wellbeing is maddening, it's also kind of sweet.  
"No," she whispers, not sure she really wants to tell him this, but goes for it anyway," I think…I think I liked that."  
Sasha groans and pulls her flush against his own body again, ravishing her mouth with bruising force, fingers back in her hair.

_Ring ring. _

Payson is the one who freezes this time. "I think that might be my mother," she says, possibly uttering the worst mood-killing words ever.  
"Damn," he swears, hands sliding down her back. "I'll get it, you go shower."  
His command seems hilarious to himself as he starts walking towards the office, laughing loudly.  
"What's so funny about that?" She asks, running after him. He turns to her, face perfectly blank.  
"Nothing, Payson."

It is indeed her mother who is calling, asking if they are done yet because the Keelers would really like to eat dinner soon. After a brief( too brief) kiss, Payson hurries towards her car, a huge smile on her face. ' Finally,' she thinks as she drives home.

She arrives at the Rock even earlier than usual but Sasha is already in his office, behind his computer. Once he spots her, he motions for her to join him.  
Payson races up the stairs excitedly. (maybe he'll greet her with a kiss)  
"Come here, I want to show you something," Sasha says abruptly, pointing towards the computer screen.  
Sighing, Payson stands behind him. " What am I looking at?" She asks, as black and white video's of gymnasts flash on.  
"Old footage of Russian gymnasts. I want you to study these very carefully. Pay attention to their form and their grace." Sasha stands up and pushes her towards the chair.  
"But the moves are not that difficult. What am I supposed to take away from this?" She complains, just as Olga Korbut performs her legendary Korbut Flip. "Wow. That never ceases to amaze me. Too bad it's banned." She says in awe as the video continues to show the move in slowmotion.  
"Too bad indeed," Sasha agrees, "but I think we can work out something similarly amazing."  
"Sasha…are you talking about getting my own move?" Payson asks, smiling widely. She's already looking forward to staying late after practice and the time alone it will give them.

A/N

Right, sorry that took so long. I was getting out of the mood I was in when I wrote the first chapter and it took me some time to get back in the swing of it. Thanks for all the amazing reviews and requests for more!


End file.
